


Died on Saturday, Buried on Sunday

by gyromitra



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Canon Compliant (incomprehensibly), Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Dark Humor, Dead Waifu AU (not mine), Eldritch Pregnancy, M/M, Manipulation, Tentacles, eldritch au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:20:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25717168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gyromitra/pseuds/gyromitra
Summary: Jack Morrison had been dead for the better part of three decades.(Archive warnings with reader's discretion, since the death one is quite esoteric, and the other one is a contextual allusion, but I'd decided to err on the side of caution.)
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	Died on Saturday, Buried on Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> Older idea written out to stretch my fingers from the Shadowrun mermaid AU (and I'll be finishing the Witcher AU (aka Murder-Deer AU) Something Ends first).
> 
> Dead Waifu AU was coined by CrazyM.
> 
> Soon, I'll be the sole proprietor of the Eldritch Pregnancy tag. Bloodborne fandom, I'm looking at you and your failure to deliver.
> 
> So, enjoy, and if You find some egregious mistakes, you can point them out since English is not my native language.

After locking the door behind himself with the personal override that cut off all the outside communication, Gabriel turned to face the thing wearing Jack Morrison's skin sitting behind the Strike Commander's desk. He watched the pretense of any human emotion bleed out of Jack's face, to be replaced with impersonal curiosity.

"If this is about the discourteous United Nations representative, in my defense, I was hungry, and he irritated me."

Great. Time for breathing exercises. And Gabriel wondered, somehow, where his developing drinking problem was coming from. He crossed the distance to the desk and leaned on it with both his hands gripping the edge.

"You can't eat people only because..." Hell, who was he kidding, they had this particular argument rehearsed past the point of déjà vu. "Is there anything left I have to worry about?"

"It's not one of your operations," Jack smiled, teeth showing, and without the usual mimicry, the expression could – and did – look downright terrifying, "or one of your inconvenient detainees. I'm always careful."

"Yeah, about that..." The real Jack Morrison had been dead for the better part of three decades, a victim of a hit and run left to die in a ditch whom something else found and crawled into – if Gabriel were to trust anything this Jack Morrison told him. “You gave me some kind of eldritch std.”

"I did?" Jack craned his head to the side, the reaction almost impossible to gauge. Gabriel let go of the desk, slowly, and pulled up his jacket together with the shirt underneath. The skin on his side still pulsated with immaterial liquid blackness coming apart. "So I did."

"That's all you have to say for yourself?"

"This situation is far from an exact science, Gabe. To this time, you're the only human that has survived in full health." Jack brushed his fingers against the undulating mass trying to cling to his fingertips like water in zero gravity.

"You have no idea, then."

"No. But I think I know who might prove helpful, you will only have to put on your charm after I'm done with her." Jack brought up a profile on the screen. "Just say the word."

Gabriel did not need to read it, he had prepared the dossier himself and advised caution, preferably termination.

"Do it."

Two months later, Moira O'Deorain was inducted into Blackwatch.

*

Blackwatch's best-kept secret was the fact some occupants of the holding cells sometimes disappeared without a trace, only leaving behind the unusually bloody mess splattered even on the ceilings. Awful stuff no-one wanted to be stuck cleaning up, so everybody kept their mouths rightfully shut.

Gabriel flicked the ash off the cigarette he'd been barely smoking in front of one of such cells.

"Are you done in there? You have a party in an hour, and if I can't get out of it..."

The door opened with a high-pitched whine of one of the hinges – he should have someone look at it later – and Jack, looking pristine compared to the gory mayhem inside, stepped out, slowly licking the tips of his fingers, the tongue flitting in and out of his lips.

"...then neither can I?"

"Then neither can you." The wet sounds of the blood dripping from the ceiling still held their unnerving quality. "Did you learn anything useful?"

"Only a bunch of religious nonsense. Tell me," Jack turned to face him inside the hidden elevator going straight to his quarters. "Why do you all find a merciful god when faced with me?"

Because there has to be something to balance out the existence of whatever you are, Gabriel answered him the first time the question had been asked. A rehash of an old argument, Jack being facetious and playful, always leaving him wondering how many of those interactions were purely for his benefit, and what he was exactly to Jack: a pet, a project, an interesting specimen?

'One that didn't run' was an exponentially poor explanation to Gabriel's liking, and the only one he ever got. After all, running was of no use, and that night he had snuck out to smoke on the roof of their compound, Gabriel decided he might as well finish his cigarette before he got devoured like Mason, or be driven insane by the sight of the thing that wore Jack Morrison's skin.

Funny how spontaneous explosion due to unexplainable internal buildup of unknown gases got on the list of some more baffling SEP side effects.

"My turn?" Gabriel had asked when Jack turned to him, face slack and expressionless like one on a corpse, but put on something living, a travesty against the natural order. He raised his half-burned cigarette up for Jack to see. "Give me a minute or two."

With Jack slowly circling him, far too close for it to be of any comfort, he got to finish his smoke.

"I like you. You might do."

It took him two more cigarettes in the company of the splatter of organs, bone, and blood Mason had become to realize he was alone, and around half an hour before he called the whole mess in, avoiding any mention of what had actually occurred. An elaborate hallucination, Gabriel had assumed. God, was he wrong then, and on the next placement rotation, Jack made sure there were no doubts to be had about the authenticity of the roof incident.

The ding of the elevator arriving was enough to bring Gabriel back to the present.

"What were you thinking about?"

"Mason."

"Always the romantic." Jack moved deeper into the suite, ordering Athena to open the windows but lower the blinds, getting the ‘security’ expert in Gabriel to wince before he eventually remembered he had no idea if Jack could even be killed. He had seen the body pull itself back together more than once, the pulverized muscle and bone popping into its proper place with visceral slurps and cracks, the sinews tying the single strands back into a whole – an atavism, as he came to learn. The perfect image in one's mind's eye to be undressed to.

Not that Gabriel minded, particularly. Not at all.

But seeing Jack feed always brought something out of him – and being satiated always made Jack prone to indulge in more pedestrian matters, like having Gabriel spread painfully over his lap and speared on his cock, tendrils of void keeping him bound and upright, and immobile. Dissecting him with clinical precision and then putting him back together, all while observing Gabriel with the professional disinterest one might wear during a specimen’s autopsy. Honestly, the thought itself made his dick strain against his thigh, nothing at all like bending Jack over Strike Commander's desk for a quick fuck, or having him on his knees with his scary pretty mouth on Gabriel's cock, sometimes even playing along in a fashion making him appear almost human, and so much more horrifying for making Gabriel doubt who – or rather what – was sucking his dick.

He was jostled out of his unconscious train of thought by something pressed hard against his side, sinking into the flesh turned black. With his neck craned, Gabriel observed in morbid fascination the tentacle as it moved deeper in, soon joined by another one following the suit.

"...what?" Gabriel gasped out before slick mass forced itself between his lips and surged down his throat, choking him with its girth, and for a moment took his mind off the sensation of becoming increasingly – inconceivably – bloated, for all the wrong reasons. To his rising panic, the intrusion blocking off his air remained still and rigid, making it impossible to breathe around it until it eventually moved and contracted, slipping slowly further along. The first few breaths Gabriel took produced embarrassingly wet wheezing gurgles becoming frantic again with the growing awareness of something stuck in his gut, poking and prodding where nothing should, the feeling of things inside squirming alien and impossible to ignore.

He strained futilely against the bonds keeping him in place.

This was it, finally, the moment Jack would devour him because he had become bored with him, or Gabriel had lost his usefulness to him – the moment Gabriel would become a pitiful smear of flesh and blood painting the walls and the ceiling – and maybe even Jack himself. The thought should scare him. Instead, Gabriel felt his dick twitch in excitement as his balls tightened and heat pooled between his legs, leaving him trying to fuck the air in the vain hope of creating any friction while still held in the vice of unyielding tentacles.

Pleading with his eyes, not for his life, but to be let to come.

Jack pressed his palm to his chest, lips on his scary pretty face curled up in either amusement or sneer, or something entirely else, and the sensation of something popping inside reverberated behind Gabriel's ribs. Peritoneal rupture, the still-functioning analytical part of his mind supplied. Internal bleeding, infection, immediate medical intervention needed. But Jack was only smiling up at him while something contracted his lungs, leaving his chest fluttering desperately.

"She has outdone herself, his time," Jack mused, breaking away the eye contact as his lips closed around Gabriel's nipple – teeth scraping over it – biting into it – just one of the myriad of sensations breaking through the descending fog of lightheadedness. His body fighting for its life, Gabriel focused on just, or as much as, staying conscious while the animal inside clawed and whined, maddened with the primal fear of death until something was squeezed from the inside – almost an explosion – and, screaming, he tasted the bitter ichor.

Slowly coming to, and laid out on the bed, Gabriel was simply amazed to be alive – still. Sore, hurting, spent, but neither in pain nor dying. His hand, held to his side, rested on solid unbroken skin while his befuddled mind tried to come up with any explanation at all. Fucked within an inch of his life, definitely. Confused as hell why – somehow and inexplicably – he was still breathing and existing? That too.

Something brushed the back of his hand, and the tendril receded back to Jack, folding back into his form with unhurried neatness.

"Being fashionably late is back in fashion, I hear," Jack, in his dress attire, laughed before walking out and leaving Gabriel to his own devices. He glanced at the digital clock on the wall and swore.

He made it to the party an hour late, already hating everybody there.

And with any function like this one, nothing more was expected of him but to be an intimidating wallflower, allowed to be almost as rude and uncouth as he truly wanted to be when telling people to fuck off while he nursed his undiluted vodka, eyes on Jack flitting around the room. All smiles and sparkles, and sweet words of social conventions and contracts he had no care for save for keeping up the appearances. The performance was nauseating by itself.

As for Gabriel, he was more than happy with their silent arrangement, the small talk exhausting and pointless – and what was he supposed to even say?

'Dear ma'am, I murder people, and when I don't, I find people for your precious devil-sent Strike Commander to eat, and by the way, ma'am, you look simply enchanting tonight!'

Gabriel set the empty glass on a windowsill and grabbed another one from a passing waiter.

'Sir, so nice to meet you, I'm Gabriel Reyes, this is my partner who is an unholy abomination straight from some hell – if hell exists, but I’m willing to err on the side of caution in those circumstances – and our kid literally popped out of me on the battlefield, yeah, I'm still trying to figure that one out' also never seemed like it would do well as a conversation starter.

Gabriel knocked back the drink, gin and tonic this time, and left the glass standing next to the previous one. He walked out to the balcony, hand already reaching for the pack in his pocket, fingers itching to feel the weight of a lighted cigarette between them. Turning around, he came face to face with Jack bringing up an already burning lighter for him, his back to the crowd in the room. Gabriel leaned against the balustrade and lighted his cigarette, drew in the smoke slowly into his lungs – savoring it – observing and waiting. Jack pocketed the lighter, and then tampered with Gabriel's tie, his fingers sliding lower after, splayed, with a smile of something that had never learned what a smile was really about.

The ride or die kind of smile, all teeth and malice, the last thing for anyone else but Gabriel to see.

"It's coming along all nice," Jack mused.

"You put another one in me?"

"Maybe." Coy and teasing, the answer sent shivers down Gabriel's spine.

"When."

"Not today. Would you have said no to me?"

The choice he didn't have aside, Gabriel knew he wouldn't have refused.

Curiosity was the first step on the stairs leading all the way straight down to hell, and he had gladly taken a tumble down, his sanity forfeited with the knowledge he had never wanted but couldn't get enough of. They say curiosity killed the cat, but the satisfaction brought it back.

And the satisfaction had tasted of iron in his mouth, smelled of burning circuitry, felt like a projectile ripping through his armor – Jack huddled over him, speaking nonsense words of encouragement not to him but to the thing gnawing at Gabriel from the inside. It finally burst out, and Jack took it into himself before calling in the medvac, hitting all the right notes in his voice on the call: trembling and interrupted, pitched higher than usual.

"When it's coming?"

"When it's ready."

Gabriel blew the smoke in his face, slowly.

Later that night, long into the morning hours, fucking into the body going through its paces below him – back arched and mouth open, fluttering fingers clenched on the sheets – Gabriel asked again about the why.

"Do you really want to know?" Jack whispered into his ear. "That night, on that roof, you held no faith. And I thought, I'll make you believe in me."

The answer horrified Gabriel more than anything else Jack had ever told him, not because it rang false but because it rang true – and the truth of himself was worse than all the lies Jack could spin.

*

Following months – almost a year – passed in an unfettered deluge of things going wrong and compromised operations. Jack didn't give a fuck, starting with Rialto.

"I want you to kill him."

Gabriel stared at him, waiting for a follow-up that didn't come.

"It runs contrary to..."

"Either way, you will find your hand forced. Isn't it better to act out of one's own volition?"

What had sounded not unlike a veiled threat turned out to be an even more veiled warning. 'You still need her,' was Jack's answer to Gabriel's ire, delivered with a note of amusement. The worst of it, he was right, disgustingly and irredeemably right. Gabriel hated it; Moira remained on retainer.

But today, another name was on Gabriel's mind – swamped with fear, anger, and desperation – as he broke into a run towards the landing bay.

Ana.

Jack had killed Ana.

Gabriel pushed past the agents and the medical personnel, ignoring the surprised sounds of indignation, Jesse behind him taking over the explanations, his voice relaxed and unhurried.

"Better clear out, the commanders are gonna have, ah, whatcha call it, a private word."

Jack, still in the carrier, sitting with his head bowed, pensive, Ziegler standing in front of him, didn't acknowledge his presence, not until Gabriel sneered at the medic to get the fuck out. The perfect image of the caring commander in how he slowly nodded to her.

"Now!" Passing Gabriel, Ziegler flinched with her entire body. He waited for her to clear at least some distance from the carrier before he was looking into amused blue eyes while he had Jack pressed by his neck against the far wall of the craft's inside. "The fuck have you...?"

"What do you think I've done?"

He didn't remember much of it – startled out of his fury by the sound of laughter, of all things – sitting on Jack's chest with knees braced on either side of Jack’s ribs – fist raised, hurting – skin on his knuckles cracked and covered in blood, his and Jack's.

"You killed her. You killed Ana. You..."

But Jack didn't stop laughing – meat and bone fixing itself back into shape, torn lip regaining its arch – a proof of Gabriel's impotence, his momentum cut short when it met with the simple inability to cause harm to the wretched thing under him.

"I’ve never ever touched her."

"You're lying!"

"Why would I? You see," Gabriel started at the touch curling around the nape of his neck, pulling him to lean down with the strength that suffered no objection until their foreheads met, "your dear Ana, she left you."

"She wouldn't..."

"She did. She saw an out, and she took it, so clever."

Arms wrapped around his back and Gabriel slumped against Jack's frame, adrenaline and tension bleeding out of his body – leaving behind surging feelings of betrayal and hopelessness – and still, some doubt that dispersed with fingers combing through his hair, lips brushing against his cheek in a light kiss, and a hissing whisper.

"I could hunt her down for you."

"No."

Gabriel didn't question Jack's ability to find Ana, he feared what Jack would do when he found her.

"Poor Gabriel, left all alone. Alone, with me," Jack chuckled. His fingertips massaged Gabriel’s scalp in a soothing pattern. "She's always understood, and she still abandoned you to me."

Gabriel had no strength left in him to protest that she couldn't know.

"Such keen eyes, to call me ifrit of the jinn. Such a narrow vision to call me that. So much more than I came to expect from your kind," Jack continued, words dripping with twisted amusement, and Gabriel closed his eyes. "A vengeful curse of the dead. I do like the sound of it. Don’t you?"

*

The noose slipped around his neck and the ground gave way, everything falling apart to rubble and leaving an empty husk behind. Gabriel didn't want to fight anymore. The blue coat rested thrown over the back of the chair Jack sat in with his chin propped up on his palm.

"I don't know what else can be done. This situation is... Are you even going to do anything?"

"No." Jack tapped his fingers against his cheek, slow and idle, a smile stretching on his face at Gabriel's resignation.

"I don't know why I even care anymore."

And he didn't. He could try to bullshit himself with the tired phrases of duty, of having poured his heart and soul into Overwatch, of doing good and fighting the good fight, but ultimately, they would all turn out to be poor excuses.

'I will make you believe in me.'

"You shouldn't care." Jack stood up and walked around the desk, stopping in front of Gabriel. He put his hands on Gabriel's face; some part of Gabriel hated the fact he didn't flinch. He never did. "This system's complexity outgrew the possibility of governance a decade ago."

It had been for nothing. And now, as Jack leaned in with the grimace of a baleful smile stretched across his face – touching his forehead to Gabriel's – with the defeat came relief: in the greater scheme of things, whatever were his actions, they were meaningless after all.

Gabriel looked – truly looked – at Jack for the first time in ages, and he saw the details he had always noticed but never considered as a whole: the receding and thinning hairline, the white at the temples, the crow's feet, the spiderweb-like labyrinth of small purplish veins under the skin. Superficial signs of aging appearing subtly over the years, the question of either performance, or the body pushing its own narrative over the thing inhabiting it, but, according to Jack, death didn't exist, and what existed in its stead was change.

"What do you intend to do now?"

"A real quandary, isn't it, what will I do next? What should I do? What do you think, Gabe?" Jack mused, his eyes leisurely half-closed, Gabriel's hands finding their resting place at his hips. He answered the question by himself, the one Gabriel was on the cusp of asking but too afraid to voice. "We could find Ana, air our grievances with her, we do have some, don't we? Or play around and hunt down some dirty scurrying rats. With nothing holding you back anymore, just imagine it, all the bloodshed, and all the violence you might ever wish for."

"Tempting." And it was. Gabriel sighed, reassured at being included.

"I knew you'd see it my way." Corners of Jack's eyes crinkled in amusement. Of course, Gabriel would, Jack made sure of it: seeped under his skin and into his thoughts, slithered all over his nerves and took root in his mind, bound Gabriel to himself with Gabriel's own permission. In hindsight, he wouldn't change a thing, as long as he was still wanted, for the lack of a better word.

Jack stirred, eyes flicking to the side for a moment, lips pursed and attention focused on something beyond the room.

"I see. This is how it's going to be."

Jack pulled him with his hands in for a kiss – crushing and ravenous – devouring Gabriel as the ground gave way under their feet among the roar of the blood rushing in his ears and the wail of the backdraft before the suffocating darkness overtook everything.

After he had pulled all the parts of himself together among the smoking rubble, deafened by the cacophony of gunfire and screams, Gabriel fled. Jack would survive on his own.

Sombra slipped out of his flesh with little fanfare days later, a small shadow through which alien stars shone like glittering eyes. But he called her that only when she began to fill in her form, soon a young woman consuming knowledge with the voracity of a newborn.

The hearings came and went. Ziegler made a show out of herself. Gabriel had scoffed at her testimony then. In retrospection, he could see how she had reached her conclusion.

Months passed and Gabriel, struggling to keep whole at the seams, had finally understood Jack was not coming back. He handed Sombra to Jesse, who could teach her so much more than Gabriel ever could, and sought help from the only person who could offer it.

Years down the line, looking at the frail – small – mangled body – its fingers twitching in a growing pool of blood, and pinkish bubbles breaking on the lips, eyelids on an uneven level, one eye bloodshot – the thing inhabiting it gone with a soundless pop of ripped reality, Gabriel realized Jack had never specified if the kid was dead when he had found him.

It was a split-second decision that he made.

"O'Deorain, get your ass down to the lab stat, the body is still alive."

*

With the kid below him – back arched and mouth open, fluttering fingers clenched on the sheets – Gabriel was, once again, found doubting.


End file.
